


[1.5] For Light

by CherryFlight



Series: SWTOR: The Reflections Legacy [17]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Introspection, M/M, other halves of relationships aren't present but are significant in his thought process
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:13:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23097643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryFlight/pseuds/CherryFlight
Summary: With a new title and now a new lightsaber, Lord Oberon Malo contemplates the person he wants to become.
Relationships: Male Imperial Agent | Cipher Nine & Male Sith Warrior, Male Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython/Male Sith Warrior
Series: SWTOR: The Reflections Legacy [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643305
Kudos: 3





	[1.5] For Light

The Jedi-made lightsaber felt _right_ in his hand, the leather grip well-worn and broken in comfortably by its time at Flow’s side. Its golden blade was alien to him, and yet, the sight of it in his hand, instead of coming at him, warmed his heart. It wouldn’t look out of place to other Sith. Many stole their lightsabers from Jedi in the first place, but its make at a glance was ambiguous. And yellow, while not common, was not suspicious to see in a Sith’s hand.

Oberon leaned over the railing of the bridge, feeling the cool air from the river far below sweep over him. Flow’s words to him as they exchanged sabers still lingered in his mind.

_“You were made for light. That was, too. Remember that.”_

_Made for light_ … His new friend - apprentice, nominally - had sensed his inner conflict and had not known what to make of it. In the end, she had told him that his _deeds_ only reflected light. And while her view had been narrow, only having seen what had been relevant to her, maybe, whatever his warring emotions and nature made of his connection to the Force from within, that was right. It had been that observation that had prompted him to seek Flow out in the first place, intuition telling him light would be the key. Fear and anger spurred him, ever the foundation of a dark side practitioner’s power. But in other ways, they did the same for Flow, and he was light as anyone he knew, save Natirru. Emotions, perhaps, were beyond his control. He could not master the stoicism asked of Jedi. Indeed, many _Jedi_ could not. But when it came to conscious decisions, they erred towards mercy and compassion, especially for those weak and helpless as he had been as a child.

He remembered, distantly, memories of memories, a very young boy allowed to be his own person. Who could say why, one day, his mother and father had come down on him with iron fists that aimed to shatter everything he was and try to rebuild some broken, jagged thing in their image?

He had thought, for so long, they had succeeded and his struggle was to escape it. But he had only ever been half right. They had broken him, but had not reshaped him. The injuries they dealt him were instrumental in shaping his depth of command of the Force. But they had _not_ succeeded in making him into the type of Sith they were. He had held stubbornly to a sense of honor and found, on entering the Academy, it was not out of bounds of the Code. He had a foot in the door all along, and it had proven itself not quite as stubbornly heavy as he had thought.

He was in charge of rebuilding himself. Natirru had provided the schematics, all compassion and paternal love. And when he was faced with a Padawan questioning her place in the world and with the Force, a reflection of his own conflict, he had realized the other Jedi in his life, whom he respected - loved, he was coming to understand - _he_ would know how to make it all make sense, so he could make himself whole. He had never wanted to change Flow. Flow as a Jedi had seemed… _right_ , in spite of the way his power was driven by fear. And that was what Oberon had desperately wanted but didn’t know how to name, let alone seek for himself. Why he sought him out, again and again, trying to discover what it was.

It was being sure of his place in the world, of knowing that, even if he didn’t measure up in the eyes of his peers, he _belonged_ where he was. Flow had never given up on the Order, in spite of his incompatibilities with its dogma. And when he had looked into his apprentice’s eyes, searching for that same understanding of one’s own path, of guidance at that same crossroads of light and dark, he had told her light was where she belonged.

He belonged there, too. He would build himself back up. Learn how to express the things he had been discouraged from ever learning to understand. He would escape the master that reminded him too much of his parents at their worst. Victories won under him, or in the shadow of what his parents wanted him to be, they held no freedom. His chains to break were built into the armor he’d made around the remains of his broken self.

He knew who he was, who he should be. And he felt a strange urge to declare it to the open, calm Alderaan sky.

“ In freedom…I seek peace.”

He thought he could feel a distant touch of warmth in the back of his mind.


End file.
